


Blood Diary

by xMilaax



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Discord: Bellamione Cult, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Lesbian Sex, Slow Burn, Vampire Hermione Granger, but not very much, hopefully, too sexy to describe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:48:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23491972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xMilaax/pseuds/xMilaax
Summary: In a world where there is no Voldemort, Hermione has other demons lurking. As a newly-turned vampire in a new coven (with Draco Malfoy of all people), the very last thing she needed to add to the list was Bellatrix Black.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Comments: 38
Kudos: 194





	1. Nothing but a bad cliché

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey you. First, I must warn you that I'm not a native speaker but, I got this lovely person, Axuiio, that is my beta, so yay!  
> Second, got inspired reading the great bellamione vampire fanfics around here, so... well, here it goes.

_Don’t read it._

_It has nothing but lies._

_Doesn’t it seem like an acceptable way to start a diary?_

_A place filled with truths that I wished were just an avid imagination. After all - there was a time I wanted to be a writer._

_Who would’ve thought I’d be a vampire?_

Hermione ripped the page with a groan.

“This is awful,” She murmured to herself, “Could it be more dramatic?”

She took a deep breath and started again.

_Don’t read it._

_It will burn the eyes of anyone who dares._

She chuckled. Yes, Hermione’s just proven to herself that it could be more dramatic, but she liked it anyway.

_It still feels like a bad cliché that I ended up at Transylvania. Since I’ve been turned the Ministry of Magic of Great Britain has been guiding my way through what being a vampire consisted of. And then, I’ve been sent here. I know vampires organized themselves in Courts, and that the king of the Black Court, one of the oldest, most respectable but often infamous, has summoned me. For what, I hadn’t the faintest idea. The more I researched, the more I realized wizards, even the ones from the Ministry didn’t know much about vampires other than their biology._

_And, of course, how could I ever forget._

_The fact that some Transylvanian vampire criminal – or, as they called, a rogue - turned me, so I had to come all this way from England to be introduced to the-_

She heard the steps before a knock on her door made her pause her writing. Hermione sighed before putting the quill down and rising to open the door. On the other side, was a pale middle-aged looking vampire dressed like a lord from the 18th century, wearing an assemble of waistcoat and breeches, and a high puffed collar that ended just below his pointed chin.

He bowed slightly when he saw her, his mouth curving like he didn’t think Hermione was deserving of such an honor. She awkwardly curtsied back, earning a look of distaste for her clumsy attempt.

“Madam Granger forgive me for the intrusion, but Your Majesty awaits thee,” He said in a rugged voice like he wasn’t used to speaking at all.

Hermione frowned as she swallowed down a sigh, her desire to meet the King of vampires, or whatever was he was called, close to none. Yet, her curiosity was piqued enough that she was fast to reply, “Of course, we shan’t leave His Majesty waiting, can we?”.

The vampire merely rose one unamused eyebrow at her and turned to show her the way. They walked much faster than a human could without running, but her new heightened senses made her see, hear and smell everything around them. The castle was vaster than it seemed from outside, and only because she was very fast at learning was she able to memorize the way.

They stopped at a double wooden door that looked both ancient and unwieldy, but the vampire opened it so effortlessly that only one of inhuman strength could be able to.

They made their way through a vast hall, adorned with gold and precious stones, obviously no sight of silver – very harmful to vampires. Six guards stood statuesquely still on the sides, leading to the king.

Hermione sucked in her breath, surprised at the creature in front of her.

He was nothing like what she was expecting. Tall, dressed in modern robes, unlike the medieval-looking vampires she saw before, the king was _young_. So young that he didn’t look one day older than her.

“Madam.”

A low murmur woke her from her stupor, and Hermione looked at her side, where the vampire that lead her there stood, clearly annoyed at her lack of manners.

She curtsied hurriedly, as he announced, “Madam Hermione from the house of Granger,” He curved his lips in disdain and Hermione found that she disliked him more at each passing second.

Faster than Hermione could predict, the king rose from his throne and slyly placed a kiss against the back of her hand. His lips should be cold, but to her, it was nothing out of the ordinary, as their body temperature was the same.

“Madam Granger,” He called in a velvety, melodic voice that made her blink.

“Your Majesty,” She whispered back, her eyes scanning the young, sharp but handsome features, stopping at vivid red orbs that watched her amusedly.

After a moment, the king straightened his spine, head-turning slowly to the vampire that accompanied her, “That would be all, Grigore.”

The insufferable vampire, that Hermione learned now was called Grigore, bowed deeply before leaving them.

The king faced back at her, “Since you’ve been introduced, it’s only fair I reciprocate. I’m Orfeo Movarth, king of the Black Coven from Transylvania,” He said softly, his voice almost alluring.

Hermione was unsure if she was to curtsy again, but settled with a flimsy, “Yes, I’m aware. Your Majesty,” She added in an afterthought.

“Now, now, it’s only us,” The king chuckled gently.

Hermione frowned at that, very conscious that there were at least six guards in the room.

“No need to be so formal.” He continued kindly, though his face and his soft tone weren’t fooling her.

He was trying and, so far, succeeding in putting her in a trance. No more. She shook her head.

“I insist,” She said in a measured tone.

He smirked at her, clearly realizing that she was not some docile girl he could easily manipulate.

No, she was strong-willed and proud of it.

“If you are sure, Madam Granger,” He replied in a honeyed voice, though his eyes were no longer trying to charm her. He leaned in just a little, “In case you are wondering, I’m forty,” He whispered like he was telling her a secret, an impish smirk on his lips.

That threw Hermione out of balance. Was he reading her mind? She didn’t feel a _legilimens_ inside her mind…

Her surprise must’ve been evident on her face, because the king smiled and explained, “I’m sure you know, Madam Granger, but we have natural ability to know what someone is thinking.”

By _we_ , Hermione knew well he meant vampires, but before she could dwell on her new reality too much, she looked at him with renewed eyes. Was she going to look that young in the next twenty years? Goddess, she knew vampires aged more slowly than humans, but she wasn’t expecting it was going to be _that_ slow.

The king was still smiling as if fascinated by her.

“Your Ministry is not much use to you, is it?” He said matter-of-factly.

Hermione cast her eyes down for just a second; no, of course not, all they said is that she should avoid sunlight and garlic, and were very adamant to inform her that she could feed on animal blood instead of human blood.

When he turned to look at the king again, he was watching her in wonderment. But, before she could say anything, he voiced his thoughts.

“Your eyes turned out gold,” He stared intently at her, “Those are very rare. Very rare indeed. In two centuries, no new vampire graced us with golden eyes,” He told her too casually for it to be nothing.

Had she had a fast blood circulation, she’d have blushed. Hermione cleared her throat after a moment of silence.

“Pardon me, Your Majesty, but why am I here?” She blurted the question that’s been plaguing her for days.

The king clapped his hands as if he was just reminded of that little detail.

“Of course, of course, Madam Granger, if you’ll be so kind as to follow me, your brother is waiting for us…”

My what? Hermione’s mouth hanging open at that piece of information, but, before she could voice that, the king was on the move.

“There is no need,” He turned back to address a couple of guards that were motioning to come with them.

Hermione was led to a short path this time, and the king opened the door for her that what looked like a study, the opposite side of the wall with shelves from floor to ceiling, filled to the brim with books, a robust ebony desk occupying the primary spot of the room, and on a chair, a man sat immobile, his blond hair impeccably pushed back. For an amusing moment, Hermione thought he reminded her of-

“Draco,” The king declared joyfully. “I finally brought your sister with me!”

The man rose from his chair and turned, his stare catching Hermione’s. Though he now presented pitch-black eyes, there was no mistaking who he was.

Hermione was once again with mouth agape, closing and opening it like a fish out of water, Draco wasn’t far behind, looking nothing short of flabbergasted.

“Oh, I see,” The king joined his hands in delight. “You already know each other. What a lovely coven it will be!”

Hermione turned hastily, her neck popping from the sudden movement, “What is going on here?!” She demanded strongly, completely forgetting that the one she was talking to was a fucking vampire king.

Draco winced, and Hermione gulped, realizing her mistake.

But Movarth just grinned at them, like he was very entertained by the whole situation.

“My dear children,” He said smoothly, “Let’s all sit down, shall we?”

Hermione complied, still dumbfounded.

After they all settled down, Hermione and Draco staring anywhere but at themselves, the king called their attention.

“I’m afraid I have no other option than to start in the beginning, as you both are oblivious to your new condition,” The vampire said solemnly.

‘Oblivious’ was not an adjective Hermione was used to be called, but she too was afraid that there was no other to describe her at the moment.

“Iacob Popescu was a vampire from the Black Court,” He started. Hermione's anger flared at the mention of the name, making her grind her teeth. She knew who he was alright. “He and his wife adopted a baby, according to our laws. Sadly, both the baby and the wife were murdered. Dagger to the heart,” Movarth shook his head, a distraught expression crossing his face for a fleeting second. “Nasty, nasty business.”

Hermione closed her eyes, pressing her lids until it hurt, conflicted emotions hurling inside her.

“So what, are we to pity him, then?” Draco barked beside her, and Hermione finally gazed at him. He looked severe, his lips pressed together in a thin line, his new black eyes harsh and unforgiving.

She took a deep breath, even though she didn’t even need air anymore. Her hands started to tremble, and she envied how Draco Malfoy could stay completely still, even though he was, just like her, very much distressed.

“Of course not,” The king said with a twirl of his hand. “Even after we found and executed the culprit, he went mad. Turning to new vampires to try and feel like a father again. He didn’t meet his intent,” He finished dryly, and, for the first time since she met the king, Hermione saw the dangerous nature behind the kindness.

There was a tense silence before Draco clicked his tongue.

“I’ve heard he’s been captured and brought here to meet the consequences of his actions,” He stared blankly, an indifferent posture that contrasted to his angered one just a minute away. “I fail to see why I’ve been requested here,” He finished apathetically.

The king stared at some point above their heads as if pondering his next move. When he looked back, he had a serene expression on his face.

“Iacob Popescu attacked you both after he escaped from Great Britain’s Ministry before he was seized again. He turned you Madam Granger, and then he turned you, Mister Malfoy. As I’ve told, he’s a Transylvanian vampire, who was a part of this Court. That means you are both to abide by the Transylvanian laws, as the ancient vampiric traditions rule. Not only that, but you are now part of the Black Court. You are under my jurisdiction, my command, but also under my protection, and my favor. You are never to be harmed without the assailant feeling the weight of my and all the vampires’ I represent wrath, you are never to need for something because we provide. We take care of our own.” He stated passionately, and Hermione saw right there that the king, despite both his obvious and hidden flaws, was a leader to be respected.

She was on the verge of asking what that talk of being a Transylvanian now entailed when he shot her a warning look, effectively cutting off the impending set of questions.

“Also,” He started softly this time like he was to approach a sensitive matter, and Hermione feared what that must be, because so far? Nothing trivial was said. “When Popescu imbued into you the Vampirism, he carelessly bounded you two with him, but he also bounded the both of you by blood.” He stopped, his words heavy enough that Draco and she finally understood his implications, even before he sentenced: “Those vampires bound by blood are, and has always been since the beginning of times, family. You are now and forever will be, brother and sister.”

It had to be at least three minutes where everything and everyone went still. No one blinked, breathed, literally. Not a single strand of hair dared to fly. Then it was over.

Draco jumped from his chair with an affronted expression, and Hermione followed suit, if only by instinct.

“She is not my sister!” Draco spat and Hermione whirled her head in his direction.

“As if I’d wanted to be,” She snarled before anxiously staring back at the king, “Your Majesty, I live in England! I have a job, friends!” She forced herself to calm down and changed her approach, “Certainly a well-educated, considerate vampire like yourself can understand that I can’t just move to Transylvania!”

The king, who had not moved a muscle throughout the whole commotion, raised his hand. That was enough to quiet the room.

“Settle down, children,” It was an order and Hermione obeyed immediately, despite the fact the king looked like a twenty-year-old man.

Draco lingered for a second before he, too, sat down.

“I’m no child,” He replied, annoyance clear in his voice.

“Draco,” The king sighed, looking fed up. “You were turned what? Weeks ago? To me, you are a one-month-old little vampire and it would serve you well to watch your attitude. I may be a bit more in control of myself than most of us vampires, but don’t you forget that I can spin the coin in a second if I’m compelled to.” He spoke plainly, but there was a thinly-veiled threat laced with every one of his words.

Draco’s eyes were wide, and he nodded once. Hermione almost felt bad for him.

“Well, then,” The king smiled at them, like nothing out of the ordinary had happened, “Now that we are all in agreement, we shall move to the bureaucracy.”

Hermione felt like she was having an out of body experience as she heard Movarth declaring that all of the assets of their attacker could now belong to them, that they could claim his lineage inheritance and title, or his position on the Court because he was a Viscount, and quite wealthy.

“I want nothing of it,” She abruptly interrupted him with a murmur that a human ear wouldn’t hear, but the king did. He looked at her with sympathy, and she felt a sudden urge to bolt. Or to scream at him that she was done, and she didn’t need his pity! But instead, she continued expressionlessly, “I don’t want his name or title, much less his possessions. I want nothing to do with him ever again.”

“Very well,” He accepted it effortlessly like he already expected that. “You must know, Madam, that your right and that of your descents do not expire, and you can claim it at any time you want. The assets will stay under the care and usufruct of the Court, but you can retrieve your share of it if you so decide in the future.”

Hermione nodded, not caring in the slightest about any of that.

He turned to Draco, “And you, Mister Malfoy?”

“I don’t want his scraps”, he replied haughtily.

“I’ll ask Grigore to make a blood contract to convey both of your intentions, then. With that set, I have one last question.” He stopped and assessed them before deciding on the fast, band aid-ripping approach: “Iacob Popescu was judged and sentenced to death. The execution is tomorrow, after sunset. He wronged you, and, by our laws, that means you can serve him his punishment.”

Hermione felt like she was going to vomit. Was she to kill the horrid creature that turned her? Was that supposed to be a _privilege_?

“I rather not,” Malfoy answered first, and it caught her off guard. Hermione almost expected the other to jump at the opportunity, but she knew Draco Malfoy had changed with the years. He hadn’t directed a slur at her ever since they were sixteen. Either way, it was nice to have the proof.

“Me neither, if possible,” She said warily, afraid that the rules of the Court would force her to.

But the king agreed easily on that too, “If that is what you both wish.”

Hermione must’ve looked way too relieved, because the vampire smirked at her, and said: “Vampires are no beasts, Madam Granger, regardless of what humans told you. But we are proud, and we do not treat treason lightly; he must die, but it doesn’t have to be by your or Mister Malfoy’s hands.”

She nodded, thankful to be spared from yet another torment.

The king smiled at them, much more energized now that the worst had passed – or so she hoped.

“Now, you said to me you don’t want to move to our country,” He looked at Hermione, eyes bearing no offense. “You are free to do whatever you desire with your new life, as long as you don’t break our laws.”

Hermione couldn’t help but smile back this time, ignoring his stern warning at the end of the sentence. Thank Merlin. There is one silver lining in the Greek tragedy that has become her life.

Draco seemed to relax by her side too, though he kept quiet.

“Now,” The king summoned an ancient-looking book from the shelves and opened it delicately. “The last coven in England was extinct by Grindelwald in 1941, which can be problematic because while vampires are often lonesome, we are not to live alone.”

“Why?” Hermione blurted, unable to resist.

“Survival,” He said simply, and Hermione felt embarrassed by her slip. Of course. Isolated vampires had been a target for centuries and centuries, and though the world has changed, they were still stigmatized.

“Although you are not defenseless, as you have your magic abilities unaltered, you are newly transformed vampires, and I can’t let you just fend by yourselves when you leave.”

Hermione was ready to contradict him when his red eyes rested on her.

“That is not a suggestion,” Movarth said decisively. “There is no coven in England, so there is no other way but you two start a new one. Don’t forget you are family, it is not only your moral obligation but also your prerogative to stay together.”

“Does that mean-”

“Yes, Madam, you do have to live together.”

Damn those mind-reading vampires and their prerogatives.

“You are one of us, now,” The king declared with a smirk tugging on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is very AU as you notice, but I hope it was pleasant enough so you'll stick with me and let me know your thoughts!  
> Oh, Bellatrix shall make her appearance soon enough.


	2. Welcome

_Don't read it._

_It's cursed._

_Sun Walking Potion_

_Start by brewing a simple Fire Protection Potion:_

_Slice bursting mushrooms with a knife, add to the cauldron and stir clockwise until the potion turns blue._

_Add the salamander blood to the cauldron and stir anti-clockwise until the potion turns green. Crush the wartcap powder in a pestle, add to the cauldron and stir clockwise until the potion turns red._

_After that is done, add the Fluxweed and stir ten times clockwise to one anti-clockwise until the smoke turns light yellow. Put the fire off immediately. Let it rest for two days, and add one teaspoon of Octopus Powder, stir clockwise five-time and let it cool. Before drinking, cast a Flame-Freezing Charm._

_The effects will wear off after six hours-_

Hermione noted Malfoy leaning forward to steal a glance at her diary, which made her glare at him and move the journal away.

"Stop snooping," she scolded.

Malfoy scoffed, "I wasn't snooping."

She raised one unimpressed eyebrow at him.

"As if I was interested in whatever shit you are writing," He raised his chin and pointedly looked the other way.

Hermione snorted, but before Draco could react, Grigore entered the chambers and bowed.

"Excuse me, the port key is ready," He had such a smug expression on his face like he could barely wait for them to be gone.

"About time!" Draco rose from his chair gracefully like a lord and as polite as a frog.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but she too was relieved. Even though she wasn't looking forward to her new housing situation, she was more than eager to leave Transylvania. Besides, it wasn't like her stay in Malfoy Manor would be permanent. She was very adamant about that.

Grigore openly scowled at Draco, who was far from intimidating, and regarded the vampire with the disappointment one would look at a dog who failed to do a trick, he opened his mouth and Hermione elbowed him on the ribs.

He turned to shoot her a dirty look, but she had plastered a fake smile on her lips. The last thing she needed was a dispute between the two egocentric vampires.

"Thank you for your hospitality," she said. She was being insincere, but no one could say she wasn't well-mannered.

Grigore seemed appeased as he handed her a ruby pendant rub-over set in thick gold on a gold chain. She frowned at the beautiful, expensive jewelry. It looked old, but it shone like it was just plucked out of the store.

"It's a parting gift from His Majesty," the vampire explained before turning stiffly and giving Draco a pair of gold and ruby cufflinks. "He wishes you a good journey and best regards from the Black Court."

In other words, he wished them to follow every demand he made, Hermione thought darkly.

At last, he handed Hermione a heavy onyx goblet.

"You will board the atrium of the Ministry of Magic, in five, four, three…"

There was no other warning, and Draco rushed to touch the goblet, at the same time a familiar pull swallowed then into nothingness.

They landed surprisingly graciously on the full atrium. A vampire thing, Hermione thought. Had she been human, she would have been butt flat on the floor.

People popped up at the Ministry all the time, from various magical means of transportation. But somehow, they seemed to attract an unnatural amount of attention. Slowly one by one the wizards and witches turned to watch them, whispers that seemed no good filling the room.

Draco sighed.

"Let's get out of here quickly, Granger."

Hermione was more than ok with that and started to follow Draco to the exit before a twinge in her chest stopped her, her reflexes faster than ever as her body reacted unconsciously to protect Draco from danger. He could not be harmed! Hermione pounced, pushing him to the ground with her as a stake zoomed above them, where Draco's heart had been a second ago, and clashed against a wall with a cracking sound.

Draco gasped and a hiss began to rise from his throat, somehow Hermione sensed he was going in for the kill. She was taken by a sense of care so grand she clasped her arms as strong as she could around him, in an awkward embrace take that looked a lot like an armadillo curling into a ball or a snake clutching her pray.

Hermione closed her eyes and apparated them away.

They landed much less gracefully this time, splayed on their backs on the floor of her flat. Ice ran through her veins as the aching in her chest dulled.

"What happened?" Draco was the first on his feet, fangs exposed, and hands closed in fists.

Hermione sat on the floor wide-eyed, "A man just attacked us. He just-"

"Sent a bloody stake in my direction!" Draco hissed, lips pressing in a thin line, "You know what that means, Granger?"

"They discovered us." Hermione gulped as dread filled her. "Nobody was supposed to know that we are vampires! The Ministry-"

"Was never to be trusted," Draco spat. "I realize your experience there is different than mine, but believe me, I've been accustomed to their hate since I was born."

Hermione looked at his distressed eyes, but he averted them.

"I-" Draco hesitated in a way Hermione's never seen before. "I was, just-" He gritted his teeth, expelling a fast puff of air, "Thank you, Granger."

She finally stood up from the floor to stare at him, "I couldn't help myself, it was like my body sensed you were in danger and-" Draco raised one eyebrow at her and Hermione finished with a sigh, "You are welcome."

They were silent for a moment and recognition flashed on both their eyes at the same time. Of course.

Don't forget you are family, it is not only your moral obligation but your prerogative to stay together. The words resounded on her mind as she recalled the solemn way the kind had said that mere two days ago.

None of them uttered a word, for a moment they just stood there, processing the fact that they were bounded. Hermione, the vampire, couldn't manage to let Draco suffer when she could stop it. It didn't mean she liked him or any of that. No, it was deeper. She wasn't sure she'd ever like Draco at all, but she no longer felt the inclination to leave him alone and unprotected.

Draco cleared his throat, "Granger you should gather your belongings so we can go. Let's just get set and rest."

Hermione nodded at the surprisingly good idea.

In a few moments, almost all her wardrobe, her favorite books, her objects and all that she held dear were packed and shrunk until it could fit in her expanded and trustful handbag. Her life in a purse. Not a very comforting thought. 

"Come on, Crooks," she grabbed the familiar, who was staring at her with suspicious eyes. "I know, I'm not happy either." Hermione patted him softly.

Draco was patiently waiting for her, spine straight and arms behind his back.

"I'm ready," Hermione called him and accepted the hand to apparate.

Opulent wrought-iron gates stood in front of her.

Draco touched the gates with the tip of his wand, and it opened, exposing a large and elaborate garden with fountains and a path of hedges marking their way to the manor. The imposing building was somehow as Victorian as it was threatening. Unusually, Crookshanks was still in her arms, not in a hurry to explore.

Hermione frowned and was about to step forward when an arm stretched in her way, preventing her from walking.

"We'll have to see if the house reacts to you," Draco muttered.

"What do you mean?" Her frown deepened.

"As a… muggleborn, the house is not very welcoming, but now that you are a vampire, I believe it will have no problem accepting you in," he explained stiffly, staring straight ahead instead of meeting her eyes.

Hermione automatically straightened her spine and raised her chin.

"You purebloods are very peculiar, aren't you?" She scoffed, "you'd rather let a vampire in instead of another human that is just like you."

Draco grimaced annoyed before finally looking at her, "I didn't make the rules, ok? Can we just not discuss this now? Could you possibly control that tongue and wit of yours, Granger?"

Hermione inflated at his tone, bordering on rude, but something behind the now pitch-black eyes was almost begging her to drop it.

They were both so tired.

She gestured with her head and Draco exhaled, relieved.

"Make a cut on the center of your hands until it bleeds and grab the gate," He instructed. Hermione glared at him one more time and he sighed, "Please."

She contained the urge to laugh at the unexpected courtesy. Draco saying please to her. What the heck was her life now?

Hermione did as he told her and, as soon as her blood touched the iron, it evaporated, and the cut healed. She stared in awe at her palm and extended it to Malfoy, who nodded at her.

As soon as they entered, the gate closed with a resounding thud and Hermione winced.

Crookshanks jumped from her lap and disappeared at the garden, ready to explore their whereabouts.

When they reached the main door, it opened for them. In the foyer, a tall blonde woman with blue and greyish eyes that looked just like Draco's before he turned, stood. If he thought Draco could stand like a lord, then that woman would be the queen, pristine and flawless from head to though, even if her mouth was curled downside and her expression was slightly displeased.

Wordless and without even glancing at Hermione, the woman took one step forward and grabbed both of Draco's shoulders tightly, eyes assessing him meticulously. Still silent, the blonde seemed content with what she found, and pulled him into a hug.

Of course, Hermione knew who she was already. The Malfoys were a constant figure on the papers.

Draco let out a breath and leaned against his mother with eyes closed.

"Welcome home, my son," Narcissa murmured almost inaudibly, but there was no fooling a vampire hearing.

When they parted, Narcissa pinned her with cold eyes, measuring her just as much as she had her son, though probably with different intents. Hermione reigned her instinct to hiss at the woman to make her stop her scrutiny, but she stood still and unflustered. 

"You must be Hermione Granger," the woman stated.

"Forgive me, mother," Draco prompted, "Granger, this is my mother, Narcissa Malfoy."

Hermione stared at her. The blonde's eyes were no longer as cold, and she didn't seem irritated anymore.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Madam Malfoy," Hermione raised her arm in a challenge, but soon enough the other rose to it, taking her hand firmly.

"Welcome," Narcissa stated simply before turning on her heels and gesturing for them to follow her.

Hermione's eyes scanned the large and lavishly decorated hallway. Portraits followed them as they walked, and while some of them were quiet or whispering among themselves, some particularly nasty ones snarled and screamed and at them in outrage.

"What a humiliation! The little bloodsucker brought with him another filthy vampire!"

"The Malfoy lineage is dead! I try to warn you to bear more children Narcissa, you ruined us along with your disgraced spawn!"

There were even one or two that defended them.

"Cease this spectacle now, Cadma! I curse the day I didn't cut out your tongue!"

"The boy will be a better Lord Malfoy than his father!"

"Because that is _such_ a difficult task." The portrait, presumably of Cadma, scoffed sardonically.

"Enough!" Narcissa ordered resolutely, her voice not rising at all, but still silencing the paintings. "One more word and I'll mute you for weeks to come."

A pale man with a bony facial structure and bushy eyebrows snarled, "How dare-"

Mrs. Malfoy flicked her wand and the portrait seemed to swallow his tongue, a choking clop escaping from his mouth. Narcissa regarded the man for almost a minute before she lifted the spell.

"Was that something you wanted to say, Septimus?" She asked graciously as if she hadn't done anything out of the ordinary.

Septimus glared at her but remained quiet.

Narcissa turned to look at them impassively, but Hermione could sense and almost hear her amusement. The woman had wanted to silence the portrait for quite a while but hadn't met the opportunity yet.

Hermione gasped. Was that what the king had said about them knowing what others were thinking?! She didn't read Narcissa's mind, didn't even try to… It was more like her body language and her face… were opened books and she just… understood it.

The Malfoys were eyeing her with confused expressions.

"I'm sorry I thought I saw…" She trailed off, clearing her throat and gesturing aimlessly with her hand.

Draco still seemed curious, but Narcissa had already moved on.

"I presume you want to get settled and rest, Ms. Granger?"

Hermione released a tiring breath, "Yes, please."

"Very well," Narcissa acknowledged before calling, "Gail".

A little house-elf appeared. She had big blue eyes and was possibly the smallest elf she'd ever seen. She wasn't wearing rags, but rather a well-worn, simple but spotless black dress and a white apron with the Malfoy family crested embroidered.

"Gail is here, Mistress, what can I do for you, Mistress?" The elf bowed so deeply her long pointed nose almost touched the floor.

Hermione raised an eyebrow and managed to refrain from launching into her S.P.E.W speech.

"Show Ms. Granger her rooms."

Hermione swallowed down the 'please' that was stuck in her throat, annoyed that the order lacked even common courtesy, as if on cue, the blonde looked at her, "Dinner is at seven, sharp. In case you have any difficulty finding your way to the dining room, do call Gail. She'll be of assistance.

"Gail is happy to help Mistress, come, Miss, come…"

A tiny and surprisingly strong hand gripped her wrist and started to practically pull her along in the direction of a huge and elegant staircase, the elf very, very eager to follow Narcissa's command. 

But before Hermione climbed the first step, she heard footsteps approaching the gates of the mansion. She frowned at Draco, but he shrugged slightly.

"Mother, are you expecting someone?" He asked with a barely-there edge in his voice. None of them wanted the company at the moment. Nor were they ready yet to face another wizard trying to hunt vampires.

"I am, but not until tomorrow," Narcissa glanced at a wall clock.

She shared a look with Draco, and they both had their wands ready and rushed to the main door.

"Do we stay here?" Draco murmured. "What do we do, Granger?!"

"Wait!" She whispered back. "Let me think!"

"What about that most brilliant witch of our generation -"

"Shut up!" Hermione glared at him. "They are halfway through. Now, I don't know the manor, so my best chance is to catch them off guard as you hide here, so you can cover for me if needed."

"Go it alone," Draco snarled. "Is that your brilliant plan?"

Gail popped up and they turned at them with a hiss.

"Merlin saggy tits, what the-"

"Language, Draco." Narcissa appeared from the hallway with a raised eyebrow. "It's just Bella, you can lower your wands."

They were about to when the main door opened suddenly. Hermione yelped and turned her wand at that Bella person out of instinct, seeing Draco do the same in reaction.

"Oh my, my…" A brunette woman said sarcastically, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Whose family had I destroyed now to earn such a warm welcome?"

Hermione blinked, in less than a second having measured the woman from head to toe. An expensive black dress with an intricate black corset over it, pressing her voluptuous chest. Rich black – of course- curls falling to her waist, a few strands covering part of her pointed face with high cheekbones and the most alluring eyes she ever remembered seeing. Realization crossed her. She knew her.

"Bella," Narcissa sighed before taking a step forward and pressing her hands against her cheeks. "It's been years."

"Don't be dramatic," the witch grumbled. "Let me see my bloodsucking nephew."

Hermione snarled and hissed in an automatic reaction at the word. The woman turned around, noticing her for what seemed to be the first time, though Hermione was right in front of her the whole time.

"Pray tell, dear sister," Black's eyes raked through her body, a roguish smirk playing on her lips. "Who is that?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, thanks Axuiio for bearing with my many mistakes and correcting them. Best beta ever.  
> Sooo... that's a filler. Hope you liked it anyway. Share with me your thoughts?  
> xx


	3. Impolite

_"Pray tell, dear sister, who is that?" Black's eyes raked through her body, a roguish smirk playing on her lips._

Hermione felt self-conscious, though she knew there was no reason for that. Just to make a point, she raised her chin higher, challenging the woman. The other witch raised one eyebrow, amused, as a voracious smile stretched across her face.

"That's Hermione Granger," Draco announced after it became clear she wasn't going to. 

Bellatrix Black hummed, putting one bony finger on her chin, as if on thought.

“Tell me Draco, isn’t that the mudblood who you used to complain about all the time?”

Hermione instinctively snarled at the slur, baring her fangs and preparing to bounce on the woman – just to be stopped by a hard hand holding her back. She hissed at Draco but didn’t make her move.

“Careful, aunt,” Draco murmured, “she can snap your neck before you even notice.”

Bellatrix cracked a high pitch, childish sound that resembled one of a madwoman.

Hermione retracted her fangs and stared coldly at the woman, her aggressive stance upsetting her. Damn those vampiric instincts. 

“My nephew, how you’ve changed since I last saw you,” Bellatrix countered with a chuckle, her eyes still resting upon Hermione. “Apart from those… shining pointy little teeth, of course.”

“He is right, my dear,” Narcissa interjected softly before anyone could comment on that, “Vampires are very proud creatures.”

That sent Bellatrix into another fit of manic laughter, and Hermione closed her hands in fists, wanting nothing more than to rip that fair, long neck apart.

“Mother,” Draco said in an annoyed tone, ignoring his aunt altogether, though his hand pressed harder against Hermione’s shoulder, “Could you not call us creatures?”

“I’m sorry, dearest,” Narcissa cooed, “you are my most precious, handsome creature,” She finished with a mischievous smirk, that made Draco sigh but relax at the same time.

"That's very rich. I'm going to hazard a guess and say that the girl is Draco's bonded sister?" She stared at Narcissa with a grin, "Oh Cissa, you are stuck with a mudblood, what would father and mother say? They must be rolling on their graves now." 

“Stop that at once, Bellatrix,” Narcissa demanded as Draco all but embraced Hermione to prevent her from moving.

But she wasn’t going to lose her temper anymore.

“Is that the best you can do?” Hermione asked her with a soft voice, pushing Draco to the side.

Bellatrix whipped her head to look at Hermione, her eyes slightly wide, as if she wasn’t expecting Hermione to speak at all.

"I've been called worse by people your third age," she tipped her head to one side, a sickeningly sweet smile on her lips.

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes, “you think you’re so witty, don’t you? Do you know what I do to silly girls like-”

"Aunt!" Draco shouted, turning all eyes to him, "Granger and I were about to go upstairs to rest. Aren't you tired of your journey as well?" Something was threatening and something was dark about Draco when he said that, his eyes all but black slits.

Hermione was probably the most surprised one in the room. What was that? Had Draco felt that protective pull like she had before with him?

Meanwhile, Black stood tall, pushing back her shoulders. She stared down at Draco harshly and had if it been any other situation, Hermione was sure the man would have all but crumbled already. But, despite flinching, Draco held his ground, and – after exactly 75 seconds of cut-with-a-knife tension, Black smirked and threw him a look that seemed a lot like _pride._

What a crazy, crazy woman.

"Hush now, Draco. I know you won't bite." Bellatrix Black dismissed him, a satisfied glint in her eyes: "I've come bearing gifts!" She exclaimed like a child on Christmas, though the sardonic edge was still there.

The brunette flicked her wand and before them, a big trunk with a cooling charm appeared, and it was filled to the brim with blood bags.

Hermione inhaled sharply. If she remembered correctly her experience in Transylvania, that was _human_ blood.

“That’s right, pet,” Black grinned savagely at her. “I brought you food.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes, refusing to comment.

“Bellatrix,” Narcissa scolded beside her, “What did you do?” She asked disapprovingly.

Black rolled her eyes.

“Don’t fret, Cissa. I got it from a _friend_ who is a potion master. He owed me one," the devilish way she pronounced the word made it clear that the person was anything but a friend.

Hermione was about to ask how the man gathered so much human blood before she thought it over. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Narcissa sighed.

“Well, aunt,” Draco said, his expression more intrigued than worried, “It is certainly better than the toothy glove you brought me last time,” he finished with a raised eyebrow.

Bellatrix sighed dramatically, “I still don’t understand why you didn’t like it. It’s made with manticore teeth!”

“That’s _precisely_ the point!”

Hermione shot them a scandalized look. Dear Morgana.

Her eyes drifted to Gail. For a moment, Hermione forgot the elf was there, standing dutifully. “Gail,” she murmured discreetly to avoid catching the attention of the arguing pair.

“Yes, Miss! What can Gail do for you, Miss?” The elf shrieked and ran towards her, bowing deeply.

So much for not catching attention.

Everyone was now staring at her, but Hermione avoided their eyes and cleared her throat.

“I would like to go to my room now, please.”

The elf bounced enthusiastically.

"Yes, Miss! Gail will show you! Gail prepared your rooms herself! I hope it will be up to your standards, Miss! Otherwise, Gail will have to iron her ears-"

Hermione turned to look at Narcissa as the elf rambled on, “If you excuse me, Mrs. Malfoy.”

The blonde was watching her with amused eyes, and Hermione just knew the woman was watching her even before she called the elf.

"Of course, Miss Granger." She nodded, "In fact, Draco, Bella why don't you head upstairs as I handle the… gift Bella brought along."

Hermione did not linger to see if they were going to follow her or not, she just shook her head to Gail, who promptly started to lead the way.

When they reached the last step of the stairs, Hermione realized what the elf had said.

“Did you say you were going to iron your ears?” She blurted.

"Oh, Gail mustn't forgive herself if she did something that Miss won't like! Mistress Malfoy said Gail is to be your assistant! Do everything for Miss while you are at the Manor! Surely, if Gail fails to ensure that Miss is comfortable, Gail must punish herself!"

"Gail," Hermione stopped abruptly, "Under any circumstances are you going to punish yourself, okay?" She said softly.

“But, Miss!”

“Any circumstances!”

The elf curtsied with a small smile, “If that pleases Miss!”

"Yes," she deadpanned. "It pleases me very much."

Hermione watched in horror as fat tears started to fill the elf’s eyes, but then Gail sniffed loudly and stared with renewed vigor.

"Come, Miss!" She said happily. "Your room is on the west wing! Gail thought that since Miss might not like the sun very much, it would be the best!"

Hermione was touched. She had not given it a thought but avoiding the side that the sun rose would indeed be the best. She gasped.

"The sun walking potion!" If she was to be correct, the effects of the potion she drank earlier to avoid the risks of the sun were surely running off, "Draco and I need to take another vial _right now!”_ She emphasized, eyeing the windows in the hallway with suspicion.

"Don't worry, Miss," the elf guaranteed, tugging at the hem of Hermione's shirt. "The windows are enchanted to keep you safe inside, even if the sun is high."

"Oh," she let out a breath, of course, the windows were enchanted. She was so very tired. Though vampires only needed to sleep 2 to 3 hours in a 48 hours gap, she had been almost three days without sleep.

After walking quite a bit, they stopped at a large door.

"This is your room Miss!"

Gail was jumping apprehensively, looking at her with expectant big eyes. That was when Hermione noted a _bat_ carved in the middle of the wooden door.

"Gail carved it herself," the elf shrilled with a large smile. "Do you like it?!"

“Oh,” Hermione pressed her lips together, “That’s very…” _weird and inaccurate._ "Nice. Thank you."

Gail all but fell to Hermione’s feet and curled her arms around her legs.

“Miss is too good! Gail is happy to make you happy.”

Hermione stared with mouth agape at the display of relief and affection.

"Please, stand up," she urged the creature, who complied right away.

“What can Gail do for you, Miss?”

Hermione cleared her throat, “You… you are dismissed, Gail. I’m going to get settled now.”

After the elf all but demanded Hermione to call her if she needed anything, she was finally free to get into the solitude of her new room.

Hermione expected it to be huge. But it was bigger than her apartment. With her new enhanced senses, in less than a minute she inspected the whole room with her eyes.

A four-poster bed with luxurious burgundy curtains and over ten pillows and cushions caught her attention first. The red was unexpected, and Hermione smiled and knew it was Gail's touch. She had met elves before, but never one so eager to please one like that tiny one. Approaching the bed, she touched the unsurprisingly soft fabric and traced her fingers on the velvet embroidered with gold thread in a sort of a vine theme.

Perpendicular to her bed, there was a large window facing the back of the garden and forest that seemed to go on for miles. She stood in the sunlight and frowned. Hermione thought for a moment that she'd never get used to being bathed by the sun and not feeling invigorated. She touched the drapes, made from the same fabric as her bed's curtains, and shut them with more force than intended, the drapes' hems swaying around for a moment before stopping, undisturbed.

Beside the window, a mahogany writing desk fully stocked with paper, ink, quills and any other object she would need when using it. Dressing in the corner on the side are two big shelves, already filled with her books.

A soft hug covered most of the floor, and an open arch led her to a dressing room, with a closet thrice the side of the number of clothes she possessed, mirrors and a dressing table with more vials of perfume and makeup than she felt compelled to count.

Finally, at the end of the open dressing room, a door revealed a private bathroom that looked a lot like the prefect's bathroom back in Hogwarts. Without the mermaid portrait, thank Merlin.

The luxury of it all made her stomach churn. She could get used to it… but overall, she didn't quite enjoy the idea. While she didn't mind comfort, she preferred her apartment, tiny and homey.

Each discolored spot on the walls and chipped cup telling her story. Organized (and categorized!) mess made sense to her routine. From the bedside table next to the front door because she got home and tossed her keys on it, to the order of the spices she kept beside the stove, to season her food according to her preference.

She absently opened some taps of the (huge) tube and waited until it was filled. She disrobed and sunk into the cool water – scalding baths no longer an appeal to her.

A bitter thought crossed her mind and she flicked her wand so her diary and a muggle pen flew to her awaiting hands. She started her entry melancholically.

_Don’t read it._

_It will wail like a miserable banshee._

_This is my life now, isn’t it?_

_Sumptuous rugs. Jeweled curtains. Golden taps._

_Blood bags delivered like it isn’t a big deal._

_A prejudiced family struggling to bear with me as I struggle to bear with them._

_A house-elf to tend to my whims._

_Friends unaware of what I’ve become._

_A job… do I still have one?_

_ Note to self: Owl your boss in the Ministry of Magic to schedule a meeting. Preferably after hours.  _

_Would it be for the best if the vampire had killed me instead?_

Hermione scoffed, not one to take life for granted, regardless of how it was. Still, a dark claw squeezed her heart and she stopped breathing to avoid the discomfort. How long could she go like this? _Until she died._ Or so said the book she'd read about Vampire physiology. 

The reason she inhaled at all was because she needed air to speak and because she did it out of habit.

She closed her eyes and cleared her mind, letting her head fall to rest on the edge of the tub.

She was jolted awake by the sound of steps in the hallway outside her room. Her shoulders tensed for a moment before she realized it was only Draco. She had already learned the rhythm of his pace.

A knock on the door. Hermione was still in the tub, had slept in it at some point of her bath.

“Yes?” She said to the emptiness of the bathroom, aware that her voice would be carried to him with no problem.

“Dinner is in thirty,” He informed. “Don’t worry. Mother had a word with my aunt. She won’t be as impolite as before.”

 _Impolite_. Hermione scoffed at the euphemism.

“I’m afraid I’m not hungry,” She murmured back. It was true. They fed the day before, and she only needed blood once or twice a week.

“Indulge mother,” Draco insisted, “She had a banquet prepared to proper welcome us.”

“How many more welcome’s gestures am I supposed to expect?” Hermione retorted in annoyance, though there was a small smirk tugging on her lips.

Draco let out a melodic laugh that resembled her of the king’s. If anything, vampirism had all but made they more graceful.

“Just this one,” He assured.

“Fine,” She relented.

“Oh, don’t forget to dress for a formal evening.”

 _Of course._ She rolled her eyes as she left the bathtub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to Axuiio for being the best beta ever!  
> And I leave you guys to it... with a promise that the next chapter will be all about Hermione and Bellatrix!
> 
> Oh, what your thoughts so far?


	4. Petit Gateau

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Axuiio for being the most awesome beta ever.

“You cleaned up well,” Draco called when Hermione arrived at the dining room. Formal attire for them, Hermione thought, might be like a Disney princess dressing to the ball. She was no Disney princess and had no flamboyant dress to accompany it, but she did have that purple dress her grandmother bought her for her graduation but she’s never worn – because how to tell the good-nature but the far too old woman that she had to wear wizarding robes? 

“Don’t sound so surprised, Draco,” Narcissa admonished him from the table, though her eyebrow was high enough for Hermione to realize the woman, too, was not expecting Hermione to look good.  
Hermione tilted her head and nodded before taking her seat on the table. She was almost offended. Of course, the vampirism made her skin look like porcelain, and her hair was far softer and manageable… but most of it was all her and her genetics!

“Wine, Miss?” A house elf that wasn't Gail asked. Hermione frowned. How many of them were there? 

A moment too long, she noticed the elf changing feet uncomfortably. What was it that bothered him? Was it because she's a vampire? A stranger? Maybe…because she was a muggleborn? 

“Yes, please,” She answered softly to prevent further embarrassment, and he poured the drink quickly before scurrying off. 

A glance back at the table and she knew the Malfoys were oblivious to her inner turmoil. Why would they care if an elf was uncomfortable or that Hermione even noticed? 

A scoff let her know that not everyone was oblivious.  
“Don, don’t be a scared little shit. The girl is not about to suck your elfish blood off.” 

Her head turned to look at the woman that had just arrived. Hermione didn’t hear her approach. Was she that distracted, or was the woman that dangerous to fool her enhanced senses?  
She doubted nothing. 

If they were to be dressed like Disney characters in a ball, there was no question who the villain that demanded all attention was.  
Curls up in a ponytail rolled in her ebony hair, big emeralds on her ears and neck, long black gown that flowed by her side and behind her in a long silken tail, but tightened, like a corset, on her waist and her breasts, that were unceremoniously pushed up and pressed together and left not much to the imagination because of its plunging neckline. It took Hermione almost a second to lower her eyes and catch the high slit that ended mid-tight. 

The boots were high heeled but were still boots, and crashed against the finesse and grace of her dress, leaving Bellatrix Black to look absolutely... 

Hermione’s throat was dry, and she didn’t know if she should be bothered or relieved by such a human reaction and looked up to find black eyes watching her with avid eyes, and they could be from a predator as well as from a cunning prey.

“Late as always,” Narcissa’s voice broke Hermione from her train of thought and she gratefully took the opportunity to stare at her glass before sipping the wine. 

“It must be a comfort to you that some things never change.” Black dismissed the reprimand easily, sliding into the seat beside Draco – and in front of Hermione. 

“Don,” Narcissa called the elf, “Would you please bring us the entrees? Some have finally graced us with their presence,” She added with a pointed look directed at her sister. 

“The head of the table is empty,” Bellatrix replied. “has it been like that since your idiotic husband was taken away?”

“Bellatrix.” There was a low warning from the blonde and the air was suddenly charged. 

“What? Isn’t that one of the reasons I’m here, sister dearest?” The woman retorted, unbothered. 

“Not right now,” Narcissa insisted. 

The witch rolled her eyes, “how much time of small talk will you make me suffer for before you consider polite to address it?” She all but spat out the word. 

“The house recently recognized me as its Masters, aunt,” Draco said suddenly, probably noticing the way his mother curled her lips downwards in vexation.

“How great!” Bellatrix grinned excitedly before her smile turned a little bit devious, “But why aren’t you at the head of the table, Draco?” 

The man averted his eyes, suddenly as interested in the wine as Hermione was a moment ago.

“The dynamic is still shifting,” Mrs. Malfoy said finally. “And that’s all that’ll be said for now.”

Bellatrix snorted before letting out a high-pitch laugh, her eyes bored into Hermione’s all of the sudden.

“Oh my, don’t tell me that the girl is the-”

“That’s all for now.” Narcissa didn’t raise her voice, but the command was enough to silence her sister.

If Hermione wasn’t sure was missing something, she was certain now.

Bellatrix smirked madly at her like they were part of a joke that all but Hermione knew about. The smug look on her, the way her red, red lips turned to mock her… Hermione had enough. 

“I’m not a girl,” She exclaimed intently, attracting all the looks at her, but she refused to be intimidated... “and I have a name,” Hermione raised her chin and her stare burned at dark orbs. “Address me by it or don’t call me at all.” 

“Oh sweetling, isn’t it precious that you are under the impression I called you to this conversation?!” The woman smirked but there was something very aggressive about the way she looked at her. The glint of danger that made Hermione falter for a second. And she damn well had reasons for it. 

She was talking back to Bellatrix Black, duelist extraordinaire. Unbeaten champion of the All-England Wizarding Duelling Competition for over fifteen years. Twelve times and the current World Champion of the Dueling League. Ranked #17 in the list of best duellists of all times, was awarded the title of “Supreme Dueller” when she was only twenty-eight. She was often described as a witch with prodigious skill and no conscience. Almost expelled from the League countless times, and nothing but her wealth and influence could explain why she hadn’t been at some point. 

But then again, Hermione was never one to deny her bravery. It might have been a mistake, but she was not about to let the other, powerful witch or not, stomp on her. 

“Then, by all means, don’t talk about me as if I’m not in the room.”  
The smirk on Bellatrix’s face only deepened, and she was almost aching to hear the retort the woman certainly had ready for her… until Don returned with their entrees. 

So, Bella,” Narcissa started lightly after they were served. “What have you been doing all these months? Must have been very busy for you barely wrote to us.”

Bellatrix shrugged, “Around. There is always a moronic ape with a wand that thinks they can beat me.”

Draco snorted, before covering it with an unconvincing cough.  
“Around,” Narcissa echoed, unpleased by the answer.  
“Yes,” Bellatrix hissed, apparently no longer patient. 

Hermione shifted her gaze from one to another before sighing tiredly. Was that what dinner would consist of? Half words filled with undertones and underling secrets? 

Bellatrix eyes snapped back until she was once again staring Hermione, “I’m sorry, do we bore you?”

She blinked. Where did that come from?

“Don’t use Ms. Granger as a distraction, Bella,” Narcissa called her back.  
A mischievous grin stretched across the dark witch’s face, and a very inappropriate picture flashed on Hermione’s mind, leaving her mouth hanging open. 

Such a pretty distraction. 

The words rolled on her head, and she gasped. Was that what Bellatrix was thinking? The vampire instinct certainly thought so. And yet that made no sense, for the other had been nothing but disrespectful to her since she first saw her. 

Draco cleared his throat, a confused expression on his face. 

“Certainly, you can share something with us, aunt.” Draco took her mother’s side. Obviously. And Hermione couldn’t be more grateful for being back on topic, still shaken from what she gathered from the dark witch. Certainly, she was mistaken. 

“Indeed,” Narcissa followed suit, “you were never one to refuse an opportunity to… boast about your adventures.”

“Fine,” Bellatrix rolled her eyes theatrically, “I needed some peace in my life. So, I have stolen a time-turner and went back to a time when I wasn’t interrogated when I visited you both,” she finished with faux innocence. 

The urge to laugh came over Hermione, and she barely managed to avoid it. Mrs. Malfoy did not find it funny. 

“Alright,” The woman conceded with a dignified huff (apparently that could happen if you were Narcissa Malfoy). “Have it your way, Bellatrix.” 

“Don’t fret, sister,” Bellatrix flicked her wrist in a dismissive gesture, “I didn’t permanently injure anyone nor committed any serious crime. I’m alright, don’t you see?” 

Hermione raised an eyebrow at how she mitigated her statements and her casual tone. How much of the rumors of Bellatrix’s bad reputation were true?

“But are you?” Narcissa hissed, eyes hard and unwavering. 

The dark witch was quiet for a fickle moment, before a childish smile played on her lips, “Engaging in one-sided conversations for a long time at a dinner table is unbecoming, darling,” 

She mimicked what could only be a mother saying.  
Narcissa said nothing at that, her lips pressed in a thin line, but her eyes softened. 

It was when they were almost finishing their main dish that the silence was broken. 

“How did you like your chambers, Ms. Granger?” Narcissa turned the conversation around courteously as any good hostess would. 

“They are great, Mrs. Malfoy, thank you,” She answered promptly like any polite guest would, “Gail did a very good job,” Hermione added in an afterthought. 

“I’m glad to hear it.” 

“In fact,” She blurted, “I would love to pay her for her services!”  
The sisters turned at her with puzzled expressions and Draco groaned audibly.

“Not this right now!” The vampire exclaimed.

“Malfoy, you must understand that-”

“Must I, Granger?!” 

“Pay her?” Narcissa asked, still very much confused.  
Hermione opened her mouth to launch into her S.P.E.W speech because that might just be a good time as any other before Draco announced loudly:

“Dessert! Petit gateau, perfect, mother!” 

But he wasn’t looking at the little chocolate cakes, rather he shot her a pointed look. Hermione narrowed her eyes but said nothing. After a second, when it became clear she was not about to push the subject, Draco sighed in relief. 

Hermione scoffed. If he thought he could avoid it forever, he was sorely mistaken! There was plenty of time to talk about the promotion of elfish welfare. 

“Mrs. Malfoy, I was wondering if I could borrow one of your owls,” She changed the topic. “I must send a letter to my supervisor at the Ministry.” 

“Oh,” Narcissa raised an eyebrow as if surprised by such a mundane problem. “Of course, Ms. Granger.”  
“Hermione, please.”

“Very well,” The witch conceded, “Hermione, what do you do at the Ministry?”

“I work at the Department of Regulation of Magical Creatures,” She replied quietly. 

A dark chuckle reached her ears and she didn’t have to glance to know from who it was from. The irony. Alright. She already knew that. 

Ha. Ha. Sooo funny. 

Hermione glared at Bellatrix and was caught out of guard: the woman was licking the remaining chocolate from her spoon, eyes gleaming with mischief, burning holes in Hermione’s skull as if she wanted to… devour her? 

A very vivid picture of herself sitting on the table in front of Bellatrix rushed to her mind, and even if it was almost impossible for vampires to blush, Hermione had to be blushing as her imaginary self opened her legs and threw her head back in anticipation as Bellatrix started to whisper profanities at her while she leaned-

Hermione stood up abruptly. She had not once attempted any kind of Legilimens, and she was sure her mental shields were untouched, and yet it seemed like the ‘read minds’ button on her had been pushed. It was more than just understanding a feeling or the general idea of something. It was complete sentences and images! Specific ones!

“Granger?” Draco called her before she realized how odd her behavior was.

“If you excuse me for a moment.”

She barely had made it to the hall before running in at high speed back to the nearest restroom. 

Hermione read something about that. About how vampires were sometimes graced with more than enhanced senses. That they developed other skills or abilities much faster and beyond what was expected. It felt like she had seen the thought at the same time it was produced, it was…

She did not want to think about what it was. 

Hermione composed herself and tried some breaths before deciding that it was all the better if she didn’t breathe at all. Her reflex in the mirror showed her statuesque self, eyes that didn’t need to blink, and chest that didn’t need to rise and fall. Yes. When she was still, she could focus. 

When she returned to the dining room, she found the room empty, except for a figure leaning against the door of the hall, arms crossed across her chest, a playful, dark smirk firm on her lips. 

“We moved to the other room for a nightcap. Join us, pet.”  
Then without expecting an answer, Bellatrix started to walk.  
Hermione followed.


End file.
